The Ninth Circle
by Labyrinth01
Summary: Lieutenant Tao ponders his loyalty to Brenda Johnson in light of the promise he made to Fritz Howard to conceal his heart attack. Did he do the right thing? Add on for S03E09 Sweet Revenge.


**A/N:** I'm a veteran Closer fanfic writer, but this is my first Major Crimes story. This is written very stream of conscious, as we take a tour through Lieutenant Tao's head after he gets Fritz to the hospital. This is an add on to Sweet Revenge. Spoiler alert for TC ep Manhunt. I hope you like!

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Lieutenant Mike Tao never minded hospitals. The antiseptic smell that sickened a lot of people actually heightened his senses:. It meant _science_ and _technology_ and _human drama_ and all the things he had loved since he was a boy. It was natural that he would attend medical school, but after his first year, he realized that the long and arduous road to becoming an MD was paved right over the best years of his life. He was eager to start a career in lieu of spending his twenties and thirties working toward one. He never regretted his decision; however, when he found himself in hospitals, the sight of crisp lab coats occasionally made him nostalgic for his pre-LAPD life.

But not today.

After rushing Fritz Howard to the Emergency Room while he was having a heart attack, making sure Fritz was properly anti-thrombosed with aspirin first, he was profoundly grateful that he didn't have people's lives depending on his split-second medical decisions. The minutes passed like hours, and every nerve was on alert as he monitored each of Fritz's breaths, movements, grunts of pain…to make sure he was still alive. He had certainly been in tense situations as a cop where people's lives were in balance, but when dealing with a takedown, at least you can see who you are up against. A virus, a blood clot in your brain, a clogged coronary artery…tiny camouflaged combatants with great power for destruction. No, thanks. He will take scumbag murderers any day.

Damn Howard for asking him to do something so risky. Fritz delayed medical treatment and put a tremendous burden on him for what reason? The GQ FBI guy couldn't risk being seen as old and sick by his new colleagues? Tao knew he was being uncharitable, but when he asked Fritz in the car why the hell he doing things this way, the only answer he got through gritted teeth was, "don't want to mess up Brenda's job interview."

Tao had always assumed that Fritz Howard was the sane to Brenda Leigh Johnson's insane, that he brought normalcy to a life Brenda regularly filled with dead bodies and sick cats. Now, though, he's convinced that the scale of craziness in the Johnson-Howard household is pretty well balanced, because who the hell risks dying of a heart attack so their wife can land a job? Tao and the other guys in the squad joked about how whipped Fritz was, how he would pretty much do anything to make Brenda happy, but this was nuts. What was that Southernism Chief Johnson used one time when mocking a suspect's mother for acting like a martyr? Oh, yes: "_Get down off the cross, honey, someone needs the wood!" _ Instead of a cross, though, Fritz was tethered to a heart monitor and a nasal cannula.

Fritz had been taking back to the mazelike inner labyrinth of the ER the second they told the triage nurse "chest pain", and he firmly declined to have Tao join him. The thought of him back there, getting stuck and prodded, in pain but refusing narcotics, alone… He shouldn't be alone. Nobody should be alone when they are faced with their mortality. But Fritz made him swear up one side and down the other that he wouldn't tell anyone, including Brenda. _Especially_ Brenda. He expected the former FBI agent to whip out a Bible and force him to lay his hand on it. Tao would have promised Fritz the moon and stars to get him to shut up, get into his car and get to the hospital a few seconds faster.

When he finally had a chance to think after sitting down in the crowded waiting room and taking his first deep breath in 30 minutes, the irony of the situation hit Tao. He had been as bad as Sanchez with the way he treated Fritz, the subtle harassment and air of condescension, every time he helped out in Major Crimes. They lightened up on him when he became the FBI liaison, but a certain level of assholery toward the FBI is required per LAPD protocol. He certainly wouldn't call the man his friend; Fritz's most impressive credential, as far as he was concerned, was that he was married to Brenda Leigh Johnson. In comparison, the hazing Howard got was child's play compared to the torment directed the Chief's way she first started at the LAPD. But when he, and the others, saw the depth of her brilliance and dedication, and how she generously rewarded loyalty with loyalty, he was a devotee. He had spent his entire law enforcement career in the pursuit of excellence, and he had found it. It didn't get any more elite than Major Crimes under Brenda Leigh Johnson; despite her abrasive personality, they won begrudging respect from all other divisions in the LAPD because of their high solve rate on some of the cities' worst crimes. And she handed the unit off with grace to Sharon Raydor despite having the snot beaten out of her for an entire year. That was class.

Chief Johnson. Tao squirmed in his hard plastic waiting room seat, unable to get comfortable either in his chair or his roaming thoughts. He was betraying the woman he admired so much. What would she say when she found out? Tao pictured her face with furrowed brow and pupils so large her brown eyes appeared black, demanding to know why he didn't tell her that her husband had had a heart attack—_no_, she would interrupt herself, hands flying everywhere. She would want to know how he could have covered up Fritz's illness and intentionally deceived her about it. She would fix him with that look, that _look_, the one she used on suspects that made their insides turn to liquid and their secrets gush out of their mouths, and he would be lucky if he didn't burst into tears and start sucking his thumb.

Now Tao understood why Dante wrote in The Inferno that the Ninth Circle of Hell was dedicated to people who betray their friends. This was torture.

Tao spent 15 minutes on the phone with his wife Kathy a little after his arrival to the hospital, enduring her escalating opinion about the matter. Once she stopped ranting about the stupidity of not trumping Fritz's wishes and calling 911, she started in on the injustice of keeping Brenda in the dark. Her voice rose steadily as Tao sat on the other end of the line, saying nothing. What could he say? That he made a promise? _Bros before…_ It sounded lame. And it was.

Kathy had a way of grinding in the guilt, making it a permanent stain you have to live with. Her parting words, spoken after she took a deep breath and lowered her voice, was like a kick in the gut. "How would you like it if one of the boys' were really sick and didn't tell you about it, if I kept you away from them when they needed you the most? Brenda and Fritz are their own little family, and you're keeping them apart during the most frightening moment in their relationship. As if Brenda Johnson hasn't been through enough. Shame on you, Mike." And then she hung up, leaving him with a broiling pit of shame in his stomach and a Greek chorus reminding him that Kathy was always right.

Tao had been told his whole life that he overexplained things. He vehemently disagreed; he felt he explained things just right. Ideas, conclusions, inductive and deductive reasoning…one doesn't just plop the end result down on the table for consumption. Each course should be tasted and discussed, debated and rated, ingredients shared, before moving on. Anything else would be both sloppy an somewhat rude in his mind. The thing he appreciated about Sharon Raydor the most is that she respected his process and didn't hurry him along as much as her explosively impatient predecessor. Sharon's slow, metronomic tone, almost hypnotic at times, was more fitting with his methodological approach of sharing information. Tao wanted to call her and explain the situation, share his reasoning with her, perhaps debate both sides of the argument. Fritz's desperation…the urgency…Tao's promise…his feelings of guilt… He imagined Sharon would purse her lips while she chose her words very carefully before responding.

"Mike," Sharon would say (she used his first name far more frequently than Chief Johnson did), "while I understand that you feel somewhat bound by your promiseAgent Howard, since both of you are honorable men, perhaps you need to consider the consequences of this decision. Do you really think that Agent Howard, who up until this instance seems to be a reasonable man, will hold a grudge when you were just trying to do the right thing during a medical emergency, especially if everything turns out fine? He will just be grateful to be alive. On the other hand, do you really want to be responsible for keeping Brenda Johnson from her husband, especially if god forbid he doesn't make it? Just imagine for a moment living as the focus of her wrath for the rest of your natural life." In his head Sharon's eyes flashed fern green for a split second in order to make her point. Just as Tao was drifting back to the reality of the crowded waiting room and away from talking to people in his head, Rusty appeared in his mind's eye. "Hey asshole, call Brenda already. What the hell is wrong with you? Adults, you're all stupid." Rusty got in a teenage sneer before drifting away.

An image soon followed of a woman on a beach with a Roman numeral branded on her foot, and the PCH killer came to life again. Tao remembered the cold pit of fear he and the rest of the squad fell into when they got the "officer down" call from Chief Johnson. She was barely conscious when they got to Lucas Jones' shop, but in a clipped, controlled manner devoid of all emotion, she answered the questions despite the obvious pain she was. Just as she was being loaded into an ambulance, Fritz pulled up, looking beyond frantic, ignoring shouts from cops who were ordering him to stay away from the crime scene. The Chief sat up in the stretcher and watched her fiancé knock over uniforms and techs with abandon to get to her, her face neutral. When Fritz finally reached her and pulled her into his arms, he saw Brenda Leigh Johnson's face crumble into a thousand pieces.

He stood up and started to pace, willing himself out of his fog of imaginary conversations and long-ago crime scenes. He believed the mind was to be used for one reason, and it certainly wasn't for hosting the circus that was going on there now. _But the heart, what is the heart used for?_ He didn't know whose voice that was echoing in his soul. Maybe it was his conscious. Maybe the Greek Chorus was back.

For once, he came up with a simple answer. _The heart is for love. And friendship. And loyalty._

God, he was a fool. He was making his decisions using his logical mind, and he got tangled up and tripped over his process. Kathy was right: he couldn't get out of his own way sometime.

He pulled out his cell phone and searched the contacts under the letter "J." On the 5th ring, a sleepy, irritated woman answered by yelling at the caller about the lateness of the hour.

Chief Johnson was right. He was late. He hoped she would forgive him one more time for overthinking the obvious.

**The End**

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**A/N2:** There you go! If you likey, please check out my page. I have a plethora of other stories, mostly Brenda –Fritz (some really hot M-rated ones, I might add), but if you like Sharon and Rusty, she's in several chapters of Welcome Her Home with Red Roses. Also, I wrote a procedural that is a MC/Closer crossover and listed it in Crossovers, which is -speak for "Siberia." No one sees it! It's 50% Sharon/Rusty, and it's long, so it can fill the time until the winter eps. It's called "Although it's Been Said, Many Times, Many Ways."

I really like reviews…why else would I shamelessly pimp my stories? Seriously, a few words would do. Thanks!

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